


Blue Velvet

by w0lfmoon



Series: Peaky Blinders Reader Fics [7]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Blue Velvet, F/M, finally..a proper fic for my John boy, lana del rey - Freeform, nothing but angsty fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 04:46:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15700446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/w0lfmoon/pseuds/w0lfmoon
Summary: all he remembers is that she wore blue velvet, and that her lips were drenched in heartache.





	Blue Velvet

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a proper piece for our Johnny boy. Hopefully this doesn’t turn out terrible. I do have another one in my drafts but I am putting that one on hold until I can get ideas. Anyways, inspired (as usual) by the lovely Lana. Also it’s important to note this is an AU where I set the PB events in the sixties rather than the twenties. Also I do love Esme very much but for the sake of this story, her marriage to John does not work out.
> 
> also I watched Legend for the thousandth time whilst writing this and honestly my need to write this angsty fic might be a result of having cried over that damn movie (thanks Tom Hardy)

> _She wore blue velvet  
>  Bluer than velvet was the night _

All he remembers was the blue velvet that she wore, and that her lips were drenched in heartache. She was merely a shadow, but she haunted him ever since the day ,saw her on stage at the Eden, hips gently swaying, that damn blue velvet clinging to them as if to _mock_ him that it was not he that was touching those lovely hips, and her voice sweet, but a sinister melancholy lurked beneath and it seemed that he was the only one that picked up on it. Almost as if she _wanted_ just him to pick up on it. Even from the stage, she could tell he was a broken man. She liked broken men; she was broken herself. She knew he was transfixed on him, she knew what she doing to him, his brothers, his cousin, and all the other men in that dingy club that left a lingering taste of cigarettes and despair.

> _Softer than satin was the light  
>  From the stars _

To him, there was no one else but her and him. Fuck everyone around me, he thought to himself. There was a hole in his life that was desperately yearning to fill, his marriage fell apart, not there was much to begin with. After all, could there ever be love between two people when their matrimony was built off a mere arrangement, a coercion for peace. He didn’t think so. And after merely a year with the poor lass, they both decided to nullify the marriage, much to the dismay to his brother who arranged it. But even Thomas Shelby couldn’t deny just how unhappy his brother became and reluctantly agreed to the divorce and sought peace with the Lee family through other means. 

The divorce reminded the man they called John Shelby how lonely he was. This loneliness consumed him all his life; through his service during the War, through his marriage, and it still follows him now. And beneath the lonely blue lights of the Eden, and underneath the gaze of the mysterious woman serenading him, letting him in on all her secrets, her pain and emptiness, he still felt lonely, but not as much as before. Here, underneath the gaze of the sapphire eyed beauty, John understood that this loneliness was shared; he wasn’t alone. 

She wanted to fix him, this broken man staring at her, as if she was the only woman on Earth. But she knew loneliness well enough; it was an insidious beast and even if it could be subdued through the company of a _lover-_ \- whatever the hell that word meant nowadays-- loneliness would never satisfied, it would always remind its host of its agonizing presence. She couldn’t count how many times she has laid in the arms of nice men and still felt that hollowness that seemed to ache from her rib cage all the way to her other bones. The difference between then, and now, she thought to herself, was she was never interested in helping those nice men. Those nice men had nice, apple pie lives, some of them with children and wives; there was really nothing to fix, except maybe their libidos that led them astray. This mysterious man that she now seemed specifically singing to, was a different story. She saw herself in him, so the urgency to become close, to attempt to heal what was aching in him was persistent. She would find him after this damn set, no matter what. And even if it was for one night, she would still try to fix him. 

> _She wore blue velvet_  
>  Bluer than velvet were her eyes  
> Warmer than may her tender sighs  
> Love was ours 

The set had ended and she stalked off the stage, which made John very sad, and now he was forced to listen to whatever Thomas was mumbling, something about having to make sure Sabini never entered this club again, etc. It was all muted to John. This work was all Thomas’ dream, it was never his. He happily did what his brother asked because he wanted his brother happy. But at the end of the day, being a gangster was not what John Shelby wanted. 

Clearly seeing that his brother wasn’t listening, Thomas dismissed him and left him there in the club alone. _Fucking finally_ , he thought to himself. But now that he was alone, all he could think of was her. The sad woman in blue velvet, speaking to him and him alone in a language that he knew well. How desperately he wanted to find her, to take her into his arms, kiss those melancholic lips, to give her what no other man could. Even if for one night, John thought, maybe he could fix her.

She was still wearing the blue velvet dress when she stalked out into the crowd. She wanted him to identify her; this blue velvet was the only way that he could see her, truly see her for all that she offered. It didn’t take her long, she spotted him, all darkness and cigar smoke, in the loneliest corner of the club. It was perfect, she thought, no one could bother them there.

A flash of blue and he knew that she’s found him, and he couldn’t stop the way his heart skipped a beat, completely in awe of her profound beauty and sadness. It was deadly combination, but it was like looking straight into the eyes of God. Damnably devastating, but in there laid his salvation.

“Hello, stranger,” she smiled, her speaking voice as smooth as her singing, “my name is Y/N, and I couldn’t help but notice you and I share a thing in common.” She lent her delicate hand out to him; an offering.

He smiled coyly, taking her land and leading it to his plump lips, gently laying a delicate kiss, one of many that night, “A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. My name is John. Just John.” Detaching himself from the Shelby name, even for a night, was something that liberated him. He needed her to not know what he did, what he does, and what he will inevitably continue to do. For now, he was just John, no familial attachments. She caught on and simply breathed out a cheeky, “It’s nice to meet you... _just_ John.” 

> _Ours a love I held tightly_  
>  Feeling the rapture grow  
> Like a flame burning brightly  
> But when she left, gone was the glow of 

“So...Y/N, what do you say we ditch this club, the night is young, after all,” his deep accent sending warmth all over her body; she couldn’t suppress the shiver. John noticed, and noted to himself, that she never had been affected that greatly by a man before even though she probably has been with many of them.

“I would very much like that, just John,” She smiled and proceeded to engulf her small hand in his large hand. It felt as if it was made specifically for her... _but only for tonight_ , she reminded herself. 

_Only for tonight_ , he told himself.

And before they walked into the velvet night, the mysterious woman, Y/N, stopped John, took his face in her hands, caressed the rough skin, leaned on her toes and pressed her lips against him.

It took him a minute but he kissed back, in a desperate frenzy to feel something other than the emptiness that consumed him every moment of the day, and he suspects that she felt the same. The heartache tasted sweet to him. As it did to her. Who knew that loneliness could bind two strangers, even for a moment? What a paradoxical nature loneliness is. 

When they broke, chest heaving, cheeks flushed, they came to a realization that tonight would not be enough. It would never be enough, and so they walked hand in hand into the many nights that they would see each other.

And he would always remember her on the night they met...the blue velvet she wore and the heartache drenched on her lips.

> _She wore blue velvet_  
>  But in my heart there'll always be  
> Precious and warm a memory, through the years  
> And I still can see blue velvet through my tears 


End file.
